


What Glitters On The Horizon

by estriel



Series: August Break 2019 [19]
Category: Figure Skating RPF
Genre: Fluff, Getting Together, Idiots in Love, Light Angst, M/M, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-24
Updated: 2019-08-24
Packaged: 2020-09-25 21:21:43
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,758
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20378305
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/estriel/pseuds/estriel
Summary: They used to be close. Now Javi is a mirage in the distance, a fata morgana, distorted by months that pass without that daily connection of sharing ice, sharing pain, sharing a dream.





	What Glitters On The Horizon

**Author's Note:**

> Today's prompt is _in the distance_.

They used to be close.

Close, like the friendly smile Javi would offer him, right from his very first day at Toronto Cricket Club.

Close, within arm’s reach, like when Javi would pull him up to his feet after a particularly nasty fall, clap him on the back, and say _next one_.

Close, like the sound of Javi’s laughter when he pulled him into a hug, a warm tickling puff of breath against Yuzu’s neck.

Close, vulnerable, like the tears Javi would hold him through in moments of bitter loss.

Close, like falling asleep together, not quite friends but not quite anything else, either, Javi’s even breathing a welcome comfort to keep anxiety and insomnia at bay before a tricky free skate.

Now Javi is a mirage in the distance, a fata morgana, distorted by months that pass without that daily connection of sharing ice, sharing pain, sharing a dream. All Yuzu sees of Javi is pictures on Javi’s social media – Javi seems happy enough, a girl by his side, a smile on his face, even if it doesn’t quite reach his eyes.

When Javi comes back to Toronto for his last three weeks of training, Yuzu feels his presence like a physical thing, settling warmly around him like a familiar blanket. A happiness that he didn’t know was lying dormant inside his belly suddenly ignites, as if it had been waiting for Javi’s blades on the same ice to awaken it, Javi’s arms around his shoulder as they step off of the ice at the end of the session.

Still, it is not quite the same, and the not-quiteness makes Yuzu antsy, anxious. He wonders if this is how it’s always going to be, now, Javi’s hugs not quite as close as they used to be, his smiles more guarded, his touches more cautious than they had been in years.

Come June, Yuzu fervently wishes for the sensation of not-quite having Javi back to return, because Fantasy on Ice comes and goes, and there is nothing, just a gaping abyss where their closeness – and later not-quite closeness – used to be.

There are furtive glances from across the ice, Javi ducking his head and looking away the moment he realizes Yuzu has caught him watching.

There is awkward small talk where comfortable silences used to envelop them for long moments.

There is a tentative touch to Yuzu’s wrist that lingers just a bit too long, a look that flicks from Yuzu’s eyes to his lips, just before Javi shakes his head and leaves.

It breaks Yuzu’s heart even more than those pictures of Javi with his girlfriend all over Instagram.

*

Yuzu has just about learned to live and train without Javi, when Javi texts him one summer night.

_Is it okay if I come to Toronto? _the message inquires, and Yuzu re-reads it five times before responding, carefully: _You are always welcome to visit, Javi, you know. _

He is still holding his phone, contemplating the brief exchange, when it rings in his palm, startling him.

“Um, hi, Yuzu.” Javi sounds a little high-pitched, and Yuzu can’t decide if it is excitement or nerves, or perhaps a little bit of both. “I meant for longer,” Javi proceeds to tell him. “I was talking to Brian, to see if I could come teach at the club for summer, or longer, maybe.”

Yuzu’s heart leaps in his chest, stupidly, treacherously. It is the Olympic season, and he doesn’t need this, he doesn’t need high hopes and a shattering landing once he realizes that Javi is only back in professional terms, not to be his… friend.

“I just wanted to check if it is okay with you… if I come. Do you mind? Would you let me, Yuzu?”

Suddenly, Yuzu is transported back to when he was a seventeen-year-old kid, dreaming of a beautiful quad sal… and, if he’s being honest, of that beautiful kind smile he remembered from one of his first competitions on the senior circuit.

He isn’t sure if he was more nervous then, about moving to Canada, or now.

“No,” he says, and at Javi’s sharp intake of breath, realizes his error. “No I don’t mind,” he amends. “Yes,” he says, wondering if this is a mistake. “Yes, please come.”

Yuzu knows he’s probably reading too much into the relieved exhale, the confidential little laugh that sounds quite a lot like the Javi he used to know. He knows this is not smart, to allow his feelings to bubble up inside him again, but he can’t help it. Because Javi sounds like a dream, and Yuzu has missed him.

“Thanks, Yuzu,” Javi says. “I’m looking forward to seeing you again.” And then: “I miss you.”

*

It is unexpectedly new, to walk into Cricket and see Javi on the ice, bundled up in a jacket, wearing his glasses, teaching.

It is new, to step into the cafeteria and find Javi at his usual table, sipping a coffee, and pushing a cup of warm tea towards Yuzu when he sits down.

It is new, and it is wonderful, to see Javi’s eyes light up when Yuzu gives him a smile.

And step by step, it seems as if the distance between them begins to shrink. They are getting closer again.

Closer, like the way Javi somehow convinces Yelena in the cafeteria to start stocking Yuzu’s favorite jasmine green tea instead of the standard one.

Closer, like the firm arm around Yuzu’s waist when he hobbles off the ice, cursing under his breath.

Closer, like the ice pack Javi fills for him without comment, not saying what everyone else has been whispering about – _maybe Yuzu should have retired last season_. Instead, Javi just sits beside him on the bench, waits for Yuzu to unlace his boot, and presses the ice pack to his ankle.

“You can do it,” Javi says, and his eyes gleam like they used to back when they were whipping each other up in the run-up to PyeongChang.

Closer, like the way Javi all but carries him out of the rink and towards his car the day Yuzu decides to tempt the quint again. “You’re crazy,” Javi comments as he drives out of Cricket’s parking lot. “You’re amazing,” he adds, smiling. Yuzu can see the way Javi’s cheeks color, and wonders…

He bites his lip, takes a breath, takes a leap. Closer.

“Can I come to your house?” he asks, and Javi whips his head towards him so fast it is a small wonder he doesn’t make the car swerve. Yuzu gestures vaguely towards his hip and the sorry state it is in right now – a cost of repeatedly missing the last quarter rotation of the planned five. “I don’t want to deal with mom now,” he says. It is true, he is not in the mood for his mom’s concern, but it is not the only reason he asked and he knows it. Judging by the look Javi gives him before focusing on the road again, Javi knows it, too.

Closer. Sitting on Javi’s couch, taking it all in, the way the space is already beginning to look like Javi rather than a soul-less rental apartment. It is soothing, knowing that Javi is making himself at home in Toronto.

Closer, like Javi sitting down next to him, a cloth-wrapped cold-compress in hand. “Can I see?” Javi asks, voice hushed and almost scared.

Closer, when Yuzu lies down on his good side and pushes the waistband of his trackpants lower to put the purple, swollen bruise on display. Closer, gentle fingers brushing against his flesh. They are gone in an instant, replaced by the shock of the cold compress, and Yuzu can pretend that that is the reason for his goosebumps.

Yuzu feels the distance between them dwindle rapidly, dizzyingly, when Javi slides off the couch to sit on the floor, sitting cross-legged on the carpet and smiling at Yuzu.

“A quint,” Javi laughs a little, then takes his glasses off, depositing them on the coffee table. He reaches out for Yuzu’s wrist. There’s nothing tentative about the touch this time. Javi holds him like he means it, like he knows what it means, his thumb caressing the tender skin there, feeling Yuzu’s pulse. Yuzu holds his breath. “You’re so brave, you know,” Javi says.

“No,” Yuzu counters. “You are,” he says with a poignant look at Javi’s hand, at the way it has slid even closer now, pressing their palms together, entwining their fingers. “I’m so happy you are here, Javi,” he whispers, giving Javi’s larger hand a a squeeze. He then looks up, just in time to see Javi lick his lips.

Closer it is after that, like warm breath on his mouth, and fingers combing through his hair, so good Yuzu has to close his eyes for a second. Closer, like the way Javi whispers his name, as if in wonder, before brushing his lips against Yuzu’s for the first time.

Closer, like the coffee he can taste on Javi’s tongue, and the salty tears on Javi’s cheeks as Yuzu kisses all over his face.

Closer, like Javi’s warm palms roaming under his t-shirt, a little calloused in all the places Yuzu expects – lace-burn and lifting weights, he is quite sure.

Closer, like Javi climbing onto the couch beside him to press their bodies together from shoulder to toe, tangling his legs with Yuzu’s, ever mindful of the newest of Yuzu’s assortment of bruises as he tugs him closer.

Closer, and Yuzu can’t believe it, the absolutely perfect way Javi_ keens_ the moment Yuzu wraps his hand around him, stroking him awkwardly while they try not to fall off of the couch.

Closer, as they lie there, sticky, breathless, and still mostly dressed, feeling like a pair of teenagers.

Javi laughs, a coarse sound in his throat, and presses his forehead against Yuzu’s, his warm hand resting securely at Yuzu’s nape.

“God, I love you so much,” Javi then whispers, clearly still a little out of it from his orgasm. Yuzu gasps, then smiles so wide it almost hurts and wraps his arms tightly around Javi’s shoulders and neck, closer, closer, until it feels like they are glued together.

Yuzu laughs, happy and delirious with it. It is Olympic season, and this is exactly what he needs – high hopes, and a thing so real everything else pales in comparison.

“I love you, too,” he whispers into Javi’s ear. The quint, the mirage of another Olympic gold… it hardly matters, now. Because Yuzu has already won.


End file.
